Page 87 of Every Silent Lie
“He definitely has daddy issues,” Ron pipes in from up front, his eyebrows disappearing above the reflection of his eyes in mirror they’re so high.
“You’re not included in this conversation, Ron,” Dec mutters.
“Noted.”
“What does your father do?” I ask, hungry for more about Dec.
“Acquisitions and mergers.”
“You work together?”
“Jesus, no.”
I gasp. “You’re rivals?”
“You got it.”
I’m building the picture. Dec’s punishing his father. Punishing the entitled brats. “And you don’t have daddy issues?”
“No.”
“Hmmm.”
He grabs me round my waist and pulls me onto his lap. “You’re asking for it.”
“You make love to me, Casanova.” I touch my nose with his. “You’re not going to be a man I fuck and forget, remember?”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be a man who you fuck and remember.”
“I like you making love to me.”
“You romantic, you.”
“Shut up.” I roll my mouth onto his, forcing his head to rest back on the seat, kissing him with hungry lips and an exorable tongue. “Sorry, Ron,” I mumble, and he laughs from the front.
“Don’t mind me. This is a refreshing Dec.”
There are few things in the world that could make me stop kissing Dec. Dec himself, obviously. And that statement. He’s rolling his eyes, knowing very well my interest is piqued. I keep my gaze on Dec but speak to Ron. “Refreshing?”
“Don’t read into that statement too deeply,” Dec warns.
“Okay, not too deeply.” I look over my shoulder. “What does that mean, Ron?”
“Nothing at all,” he breathes, more awkward than Dec. “Langhans, you said?”
“Langhans,” Dec confirms, putting me on the seat next to him, his hand back on my knee.
“Tell me what he meant,” I push, lightly.
Dec turns serious eyes onto me. No lightness in sight. “Tell me why you’re getting divorced.”
I retreat, literally and metaphorically, darkness swamping the lightness I was feeling a moment ago. “I’ve hit a nerve, clearly,” I say, turning my attention to London by night, at Christmas whizzing past. “I’m sorry.” There was no need for him to fire that bullet.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He reaches for my arm, holding it, but not tugging me closer. “Hey, come here.”
I inhale deeply as I turn. “Can we rewind two minutes?”
He pulls me onto his lap and holds my face. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be a man who you fuck and remember,” he says quietly, his eyes falling to my mouth in anticipation. I don’t have a chance to instigate the kiss, as Dec takes care of it, slipping his hand onto my nape and pulling me to his lips. And now I’d like to skip dinner, go home with him, and let him take me to the stars before I fall asleep in his arms.
